the priesthood of the basilica so strictly regard the wishes of the
deceased that they never say less than four masses over and above the
prescribed number. [Footnote: After hearing these masses, curiosity led me
to visit the _Casa di Ricovero_, in order to look at Soldini'a will,
and there I had the pleasure of recognizing the constantly recurring fact,
that beneficent humanity is of all countries and religions. The Casa di
Ricovero is an immense edifice dedicated to the shelter and support of the
decrepit and helpless of either sex, who are collected there to the number
of five hundred. The more modern quarter was erected from a bequest by
Soldini; and eternal provision is also made by his will for ninety of the
inmates. The Secretary of the Casa went through all the wards and
infirmaries with me, and everywhere I saw cleanliness and comfort (and
such content as is possible to sickness and old age), without surprise;
for I had before seen the Civil Hospital of Venice, and knew something of
the perfection of Venetian charities.

At last we came to the wardrobe, where the clothes of the pensioners are
made and kept. Here we were attended by a little, slender, pallid young
nun, who exhibited the dresses with a simple pride altogether pathetic.
She was a woman still, poor thing, though a nun, and she could not help
loving new clothes. They called her Madre, who would never be it except in
name and motherly tenderness. When we had seen all, she stood a moment
before us, and as one of the coarse woolen lappets of her cape had hidden
it, she drew out a heavy crucifix of gold, and placed it in sight, with a
heavenly little ostentation, over her heart. Sweet and beautiful vanity!
An angel could have done it without harm, but she blushed repentance, and
glided away with downcast eyes Poor little mother!]

As there is so little in St. Mark's of the paltry or revolting character
of modern Romanism, one would form too exalted an idea of the dignity of